


can't take my eyes off you

by tangentiallly



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, F/F, background lemonberry ice and jsjs, pre-ASOUE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 16:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentiallly/pseuds/tangentiallly
Summary: Moxie Mallahan, clever and good at arguments and muscular, like a less dramatic version of Beatrice with blonde curly pixie cut, she thought.R realized she must’ve said that out loud when Jacques looked at her, his face quietly amused in that very Jacques-specific way, as he said, “Less dramatic version of Beatrice with blonde curly pixie cut?” He repeated, his unibrow raised and his mouth curving up just slightly.





	can't take my eyes off you

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE/ATWQ
> 
> please don't copy this story to another site

R wasn’t jealous of Moxie Mallahan, she thought. She hoped.

Although a part of her was starting to worry she might be.

Moxie had been there _with_ Lemony, _for_ Lemony, during his apprenticeship and they’d gone through certain life changing events together and after that Lemony was never the same. Not the same boy who she’d first met in the infirmary, sharing stories with each other to distract themselves from the pain on their ankles. Not the same boy who constantly had some smart argument to make, never-endingly voicing his questions, never-endingly ready to charge into something headfirst, never-endingly get-scared-later.

He was scared now. From what R had been able to piece together, the events L was so tightlipped about and only revealing small pieces one at a time about what exactly happened, he’d charged headfirst onto a moving train and everything had gone downhill from there. Or had been going downhill since earlier, she wasn’t sure.

She hadn’t been there.

He was quieter now, far more cautious and brooding, although his face still managed a warm smile - albeit one with a dash of melancholy - when he saw her every time. “Your Grace,” he would say, holding her hand to his lips and placing a kiss like a gentleman. His face still lit up whenever he saw Beatrice and Bertrand - there would be a certain cautiousness, a hint of worry somewhere - but R could see he would also be happier, too, when he was with them.

And it wasn’t like R thought Lemony couldn’t have other friends than her, of course he could. And it wasn’t just that she felt inadequate and guilty that she hadn’t been able to help him, to be there for him during one of the hardest moments in his life - or, on second thought, maybe she did feel that way a little. Then again, she was here for him now. It wasn’t the same as being there then, but she’s doing her best now.

The thing was, she did like Moxie too. Liked her a lot, admired her dedication to truth, appreciated her loyalty to L and her willingness to help him. R _liked_ Moxie. Which just made the whole situation even more confusing because if she _did_ like Moxie, then she couldn’t explain the odd, slightly nervous and tense feeling in her stomach, like butterflies flying inside her, with the most obvious explanation that she was simply jealous of someone else also being L’s good friend.

Then she couldn’t explain how her eyes were always landing on Moxie as she and L chatted while typing up things in their respective typewriters in the small, cramped office of Daily Punctilio. Couldn’t explain away how listening to Moxie talked in that sharp, straightforward, clever way of hers in that cool, brisk tone of hers just made R feel - _something_ . She wished she knew what the something was. She really, _really_ wished.

Moxie Mallahan, short yet strong and could climb up a tall cabinet and grabbed a heavy looking typewriter and easily slide down again as if was the simplest thing in the world. Moxie Mallahan, petite looking but ran fast and could chase villains she were investigating who were escaping on a bike. Moxie Mallahan, who always grinned sharply saying “You don’t lug around a typewriter for years without getting a few muscles.” Moxie Mallahan, clever and good at arguments and muscular and R didn’t know when it started but she couldn’t take her eyes off her. It’s - frustrating. Was she really that jealous of Moxie’s friendship with L that she had to keep her eyes on her the whole time? Could she really not let L have other friends - R had thought better of herself.

She’d hoped she was better than that.

 

* * *

 

She was drinking tea with Jacques and discussing their boss Eleanora Poe’s certain new office rules, when Jacques mentioned something about Moxie getting into an argument with Miss Poe last week.  Jacques’ voice faded into background and R thought about Moxie again. Moxie Mallahan, clever and good at arguments and muscular, like a less dramatic version of Beatrice with blonde curly pixie cut, she thought.

R realized she must’ve said that out loud when Jacques looked at her, his face quietly amused in that very Jacques-specific way, as he said, “Less dramatic version of Beatrice with blonde curly pixie cut?” He repeated, his unibrow raised and his mouth curving up just slightly.

“Less dramatic version of Beatrice with blonde curly pixie cut?” Bertrand, who’d somehow chosen this moment to enter the room from R’s kitchen placed a plate of cookies on the table, echoed. “Who, me?”

Jacques looked at him, and drawled out, long-sufferingly, “That’s not a pixie cut, Bertrand. And not exactly curly, by the way.”

Bertrand chuckled, sitting down at the empty seat. “If the Daily Punctilio’s fashion editor says so.”

Jacques rolled his eyes, and snatched a cookie from the plate. “We’re talking about Miss Mallahan.”

“Oh?” Bertrand asked, turning to R to look at her with a speculating expression. It was a little like Beatrice’s speculating expression, R realized. Those two had been subtly influencing each other in regards to this ever since the two of them and L had gotten together.

“I’m just - ” R began. “I’m just worried - confused - that I might be jealous of she and L’s friendship? I know that’s not rational and I don’t even know if that’s exactly the case, but. I don’t know.”

Jacques frowned, “She’s not VFD, though. She’s ... peripherally involved, but she’s not VFD. It’ll never be the same as two volunteers.”

“For a moment, I thought you were talking about Jerome again,” Bertrand commented, taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m not - and what do you mean by _again_?” Jacques chucked a cookie at Bertrand. “As if I talk about him a lot, or ever.”  The cookie missed, and continuing flying and finally landing on top one of R’s antique vases, almost falling into it - probably would have if it’d landed more to the right. Thankfully it didn’t fall into the vase, R thought.

The door flung open, and Beatrice danced in. “Jerome? What’s he done to Jacques now?” She surveyed the room quickly, and headed towards the vase to pick up the cookie, putting it in her mouth. “Did Jacques finally make a move? About time, I would say.” She skidded towards them, and sat herself down on Bertrand’s thighs, ignoring the empty chair beside him.

“Did I what?” Jacques asked, incredulous. He looked at R and then Bertrand accusingly. “What _have_ you been telling her? Nevermind, we’re just talking about R saying Miss Mallahan’s like a less dramatic version of you with blonde curly pixie cut -”

“Jacques!” R protested, not having expected him to tell that to Beatrice, of all people. Beatrice just looked curious, her eyes wide as she tilted her head at R.

“ - and also how Bertrand thought _his_ hair was a type of curly pixie cut -”

“Oi - ” Bertrand interjected, sounding mildly affronted.

“Yeah, he’s not really knowledgeable about hairstyles,” Beatrice agreed.

“I’m _right here_ ,” Bertrand said.

“I know,” Beatrice grinned, leaning in to kiss him. “But your hair _does_ look great.” She assured him. “Anyway, as much as I would like to know what happened between Jacques and Jerome -”

“ _Nothing_ happened,” Jacques grumbled, with the voice of someone who sounded like they wished _something_ had happened.

“I’m afraid Bertrand and I need to leave, Lemony’s waiting for us. We could catch up with the gossip another time.” She winked at R. “And say hello to Miss Mallahan for me.”

For some unexplainable reason that R couldn’t even begin to fathom herself, she blushed furiously. Beatrice and Bertrand had annoyingly matching knowing expressions on their faces, and Jacques slowly, slowly took a long sip of his tea.

Beatrice and Bertrand left, and the room fell silent for a moment. Finally, R sighed.

“I’m not _jealous_ of her, am I?” She said, realization dawning on her.

“No, you’re not.” Jacques agreed.

“She’s not VFD though, is she?”

“No, he isn - I mean,” he corrected himself just in time. “She isn’t.” Jacques hesitated. “But she and L are friends and her not being in VFD didn’t stop their friendship, so why should you let that stop you from pursuing what you want?”

R looked at him. “Do you let that stop you from asking Jerome out?”

His long silence was a too telling answer. But then, he drew a deep breath and said, “You know what? Let’s - take them out to - an afternoon tea or something. Us four. How’s that sound? Simple. Easy. Tea. And we’ll see how it goes from there.”

 

* * *

 

They were in the office alone, and R took steadied herself, counting to 13 inside her head, before finally mustering up the courage to speak. “Miss Mallahan?”

Moxie raised her head from the typewriter, grinning easily at R, her dark gray eyes the color of a storm that R would gladly let it take sweep her off her feet. “Yeah?

“Jacques has this friend Jerome, and they’re going to this new restaurant in the city for an afternoon tea and happened to reserve a four-people table, and he asked me, and I’m wondering if you’d like to join us?”

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi on tumblr](https://beatricebidelaire.tumblr.com)


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